


Charming Icarus

by pipisafoat



Series: Icarus [2]
Category: In Plain Sight
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-29
Updated: 2011-05-29
Packaged: 2017-10-19 21:07:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/205226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pipisafoat/pseuds/pipisafoat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Either her behavior has changed drastically, or it hasn't changed at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Charming Icarus

**Author's Note:**

  * For [likelike_love](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=likelike_love).



Either her behavior has changed drastically, or it hasn't changed at all. Or if it has changed, it's either guilt or ... or the thing he tries not to think about in case it never happens, despite their talk. He's sure it hadn't changed though. Or only a little. Nobody's remarked on it - so maybe it has changed, and they're all too afraid of it changing back to say anything.

Marshall sighs and drops his pen, staring in dismay at the meandering lines all over his paperwork. Woolgathering. Not the best habit for anyone but a sheep shearer. Maybe he should retire, move to his mountain cabin full-time, and raise sheep. He's pretty sure Mary wouldn't want to come along, though. Sheep probably smell.

"Penny for your thoughts."

He glances up to find Stan hovering almost awkwardly in front of his desk. "No thoughts until I see that penny."

Stan smiles. "You drive a hard bargain." He drops a penny onto the ruined paperwork and drags Mary's desk chair over. "You know how I said I didn't want to know?"

"You still don't."

"Not that part, I imagine not. Tell me what comes after. Tell me about how she apologized for whatever I don't know, how she got you back down here, and what she said that has you watching her this way for the past week."

Marshall starts. "Watching her? I don't watch her. How am I watching her? I'm not watching her in any particular way. Has she noticed?"

"Yes, you do. No, I don't think she has. And ... I can't really put a word on it. Cautiously, but hopefully. More of both than before. And yes, I have noticed you watching her all along."

Marshall sighs and slumps back into his chair. "She said ... well, I told her ... about ... um. You know. Me. And. Her?"

"You told her how you feel."

"Not on purpose, exactly. There was a failed metaphor, and I was watching a woodpecker, and ... I have no real excuse. So, yes. Yes. I told her how I feel."

Stan nods and laces his fingers together across his stomach. "She didn't run at the first hint of emotions, and you came home full of hope?"

Marshall grimaces. "It sounds so bad when you put it like that."

"So put it the way it was."

"I don't know how it was." He scratches absently at a dent on the side of his desk. "The whole thing, before, it was some sort of, I don't know. Gratitude mixed with revenge mixed with, I'd like to think, some actual feelings. So once she realized that, or acknowledged it, it was just ... it was a what now moment. And what's now is that she knows I'm waiting for her, and I know she knows, and. Has her behavior changed since we got back?"

"No. It changed when you left."

"It what?" Marshall raises his head and meets Stan's gaze. "Changed how?"

"I haven't seen anyone look that guilty since my dog stole a steak off my plate."

"Fantastic."

"Well, the guilt part is gone. The huge, obvious guilt. She's still making nice though, to both of us. But just the little things. Less interrupting, more thinking. Which has been happening in small increments since she moved to Albuquerque, so I'll take it without worry." Stan shrugs. "As far as I've seen, she's done nothing one way or the other on the whole ... relationship issue."

Marshall nods, focusing on the desk again. "So either she's serious about working her things out first, or she's decided pretending it never happened is easier than saying no outright."

"Marshall, listen to yourself. This is Mary. Nothing's easier than saying it outright."

* * *

  
Mary shows up one night, completely within the ordinary, complaining about her sister and with a six pack in tow. Halfway through the monologue of Brandi's latest, unequaled stupidity, she stops and just looks at him.

"Look, it's been a month, right? And I just, you need to know. That I'm still here. That we're still on the same page. Awfully long page, but nothing's changed. And you're still here."

He shrugs. "Where else would I be?"

* * *

  
He thinks at first that maybe he's just finally learned to be sneaky when she doesn't yell at him for stealing paperclips, but then she upsets the coffee status quo.

"Together," she tells their waitress at the diner.

"Separately," he says, at the same time.

The waitress chews on the end of her pen and raises one eyebrow. "Lady says together. Lady's always right."

Marshall shrugs. "Alright. Together." He hitches up onto one hip and reaches for his wallet as she walks away, but Mary makes her _what are you doing, dumbass?_ face at him. "What?" he asks defensively.

"I said together," she says, the look still aimed at him.

"You did."

She sighs. "As in I'll pay this time, Marshall."

"Good one," he says as he retrieves his wallet.

"Seriously."

"This from the woman who once left me to literally wash dishes when I left my credit card in the car."

She does have the good grace to look embarrassed at that. "Well ... I was a different person back then?"

"Two months ago."

"Two months to grow." She smirks at him. "Now put away your wallet."

He hesitates, money half out of the billfold.

"You bought coffee all week. And donuts this morning. But by all means, if you'd like to continue to feed the entire office, feel free to cover the check for both of us." As the waitress approaches, Mary pulls her card from her pocket and sets it on the table. She leans back and folds her arms almost challengingly.

The waitress glances between them. "Ah..."

Marshall puts his wallet back in his pocket. "Right."

The waitress looks relieved as she takes Mary's card and heads back to the register. Receipt signed, the partners leave the diner. As he buckles his seatbelt, Marshall turns to Mary.

"Alright, what's going on?"

"I bought you lunch. Stop complaining or I'll never do it again." She shoots a glare at him, and he bites his tongue before an otherwise friendly meal degenerates irreparably.

* * *

  
Sometimes he lies awake at night, composing conversations they'll never have in his head.

* * *

  
Marshall stares at the tray in Mary's hands.

"Hello? Planning to let me in sometime tonight?"

His eyes jerk up to her face. "Right. Yes." He steps back and holds the door open for her. "Empanadas."

"Yup. Half of them spicy, half extra spicy."

"And you made them."

"Brandi helped."

Marshall heaves an exaggerated sigh. "Oh, now I feel better."

"Hey, she's convinced me that culinary school is worth her time and my money. Seriously, you've got to taste these." She deposits the tray on the counter and takes the towel off the top of it. "Just look."

He leans over and breathes in. "They don't smell poisonous."

Halfway to the fridge, she turns and smacks him in the butt with her towel.

"Hey!"

"Would I bring you substandard food? Especially if I'm planning to eat it, too?" She pulls a couple of beers out of the fridge and hands him one. "Come on. Let's put on one of your nerd shows and eat."

"Firefly? I know about your completely inappropriate love of Nathan Fillion," Marshall says as he grabs two plates and starts to load them up.

"Trust me, it's entirely appropriate. Have you ever looked at the man's ass?" She tosses the towel at his head and takes a plate from him. "Eat before it gets cold."

He follows her into the living room and sets up the show as she opens their beers. "Since when do you cook for me?"

She shifts in her seat and doesn't look up from bottle in her hands. "Since Brandi convinced me to help her practice empanadas."

"Mary."

"We made too many, okay?"

"And half of those too many just happened to be a little less spicy."

"Jesus, stop complaining, okay? I won't do it again if it bothers you so much."

"I didn't say that." He sits down and reaches for the remote, then puts it back on the coffee table without hitting play. "I'm not complaining. I'm just ... you don't have to do things for me like this. Buying me lunch every week, and cooking for me? You don't owe me anything."

She laughs. "God, Marshall, this isn't about paying off some debt or ... or thanking you, even. Maybe I just want to do things for you sometimes."

He nods slowly, listening to the defiance in her voice. "Like I said, not complaining. Home cooked meal every now and then that I didn't have to cook? Definitely something I appreciate. So thank you."

Mary relaxes back against the couch. "You're welcome," she answers, and he doesn't hear anything other than relief and sincerity. "Can we get on with the tv part of the evening?"

"As my lady commands."

* * *

  
He dreams that she takes him to a fancy restaurant where the violinist takes his requests. She gets down on one knee in front of him, and Marshall wakes up with one word on his lips: Yes.

* * *

  
"So Peter went and proposed!"

Marshall chuckles and shifts the phone to his other ear, turning a page of his book. "You did know that was coming. You know, when he called to ask your blessing?"

"Yeah, well, I didn't expect him to do it so fast. Or for them to set a date so soon!" The thunk of her car door filters through.

"They've set the date?"

"He reserved a chapel before he even called me. I mean, way to make me feel like my blessing actually matters!"

"When's the wedding, then?"

He can practically see her hand waving at him dismissively. "You'll get an invitation, don't worry. Three months. But Peter's taking a page out of Raph's book - but hoping the marriage part works out a little closer to plan - and having an engagement party with his entire family. And so he wants me to come." The door to what he presumes is her house slams, and he can faintly hear the clang of her keys being tossed onto a counter.

Marshall snorts. "Oh, god."

"Brandi's informed me that none of my clothes are appropriate for a fancy dinner with rich people. I don't do fancy fashion. You've got to help me."

"You think I know fashion?"

"I think you know fancy better than I do. And you can see the back half of my body without the help of a mirror." She sighs. "Please, Marshall."

"Of course."

"Thank god. Look, you can come with me if you want."

"Is this payment for helping you with a dress or a further favor to protect you from frumpy millionaires?"

She laughs. "I don't know. Why can't it be both? Peter promised me there'd be some form of fried cheese."

"Mmm, bribery." He shifts where he's sprawled on his couch, smiling to himself. "Well, let's say the payment of fancy fried foods cancels out the protection favor. You'd still owe me for the dress."

"Alright, one night, whatever you want to do."

Marshall blinks at how fast she gives in. "Surprise me."

"A movie? Dinner at a nice restaurant? Come on, Marshall, it's whatever you want."

He flashes back to his dream and hesitates before speaking in a teasing tone. "Why, Ms Shannon, are you asking me on a date?"

"I believe I am, Mr Mann," she replies in kind. He can feel her think twice about her answer, but she lets it stand. "So, the engagement dinner is tomorrow night; you got time to shop with me tomorrow during the day?"

"I'm all yours. Night out on the town next weekend then?"

"Yeah, sure." She paused again. "Look up movies playing. Or whatever you want to do. The night's yours."

"Definitely a date." He's careful to keep his tone light, but he lets himself sounds a little more serious.

She hesitates. "If you like."

He grins and sits up. "So that's what all this has been about," he says. "The lunches, the empanadas, the steaks last week? All leading up to this date."

"Jesus, Marshall, it's not like I knew Peter was going to have this dinner."

"Ah, you would have come up with some other excuse to owe me a night out. You've been ... You've been courting me!"

"No! I'm not ... I wouldn't...."

"You totally have been." His grin grows even bigger. "Were we planning to talk again?"

"God, no."

His grin slides off. "Okay."

"Oh, shit." She sighs. "Marshall ... That's not what I meant. It's just, I mean, we're doing just fine with just the doing and none of the talking. Aren't we?"

He echoes her sigh, but in relief. "For now, we can be."

"Oh, good." He hears some undecipherable sounds from the other end of the line. "Right, so, I'll pick you up around 10 tomorrow for shopping?"

"Sounds good."

"Alright. Good night, Marshall."

"Hey, Mary?"

"Mm?"

"We'll still talk eventually."

"Sure."

"Alright. See you tomorrow. Sleep well."

There's a pause while neither of them hangs up.

"Ah, love you." The line cuts off suddenly, and Marshall grins at the phone in his hand.

"Love you too."


End file.
